


the fridge in the woods

by golgothasTerror (ectoBiololgist)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Earth C, Hurt/Comfort, I Do, I just want them to be happy, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Sadstuck, do i dare tag it as hurt/comfort?, fridge, gamzee is sober but he’s chill, gamzee was actually tortured, its all pale, kinda fluff for like a paragraph, pale gamkar, they just missed eachother :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25115635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ectoBiololgist/pseuds/golgothasTerror
Summary: SBURB may have taken the forefront of everyone’s lives, but that doesn’t mean that pre-game trauma disappeared. In Karkat’s case, it can almost rule his life at times, and old habits die hard when you’re looking for some form of comfort poorly disguised as self-destruction.
Relationships: Gamzee Makara/Karkat Vantas, Gamzee Makara♦Karkat Vantas
Kudos: 35





	the fridge in the woods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my buddy isaac](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+buddy+isaac).



Four years on Earth C. Four years and almost nothing had happened. In the first year, Dave and John had teamed up to get as many of the lost members of the final battle as they could. They ended up bringing home Nepeta. Equius, and by accident or coincidence, Gamzee’s fridge. In the second year, John had disappeared, Dave, Karkat, and Jade moved in together, Dirk completely disappeared off the radar into nowhere, and Jake became a star with the influence of Jane. Roxy and Calliope were getting on fine, Terezi and Vriska went off the radar as well, Nepeta and Equius began traveling the globe and… Gamzee stayed in the fridge. Tucked away somewhere. To keep everyone safe. Or some bullshit. That was Vriska’s only request before disappearing into god knows where. And everyone listened, because who wouldn’t listen? There was nobody left to care about him. There hadn’t been for a very long time. There likely wouldn’t be for years to come. Maybe if the world was lucky they would forget. 

They didn’t. The story of the clown in the locked fridge became an urban legend, but as years progressed, less people really cared. Less people believed he was even out there. It only took 2 more years for the hype to die down. Nobody believed he existed anymore except for those that had put him there in the first place. None of them looked for him. 

None of them except for Karkat. A lot of people feel nostalgia. Regret. Anger even, but none like this guy. It was in the middle of the night when he sat up and set off. His human companions were asleep, and he was overthinking. As always. He was on guard. As always. He grabbed the old sickles from off the counter, having not used them in years, but bringing them on every walk anyway. Just in case, he told himself. In case of what, not even he knew, at least not if he allowed himself to pretend he hadn’t grown up on Alternia of all places, but it provided a sense of comfort, and who was to tell one of the gods (An honorary title. He had never reached godhood.) what he could and could not do? He was already borderline hyperventilating- When had that happened? He recognized what was going on. 

It had started when they’d all gone on a picnic for lunch, and sat under the big apple tree in the field by the woods. The apple tree had had a beehive in it. Jade and Dave couldn’t have known, he didn’t blame them, but the buzzing sounded too similar to something he knew very well. He hadn’t been able to calm down since. He needed to get away from the hive- house. It’s a house now. He reminded himself of that. 

He left the house, a jacket on over his usual sweater which was tucked into a pair of sweatpants with tennis shoes on bottom. Simple and comfy. As he walked down the sidewalk, he found himself caring less and less about staying in the town. He glanced around one last time before leaving the sidewalk and trailing off into the woods. It was quiet. Dark. Cold. He didn’t know where he was going. Or maybe he did. You’d never know in the head of a knight. They lie to everyone. Even themselves. The trees loomed over the smaller troll, and he ducked his head while he weaved through branches and bushes. His walk picked up to a brisk pace as he felt his breath hitch. He rubbed at his eyes, ignoring the red. Dave and Jade had convinced him to stop wearing his eyeliner at least at night. He didn’t like it. Seeing even Dave’s unwashed clothes on the floor or his cape on the wall in that godforsaken red color sometimes was enough to set him off. It sure was tonight. It was the cape this time. Hanging on the coat hanger by the door. He couldn’t do it. 

The sound of leaves crunching beneath his feet grew quieter until he reached a dusty clearing. He didn’t look up as he crossed the dirt. He knew this place well. Far too well. He’d never gotten this close before. He didn’t know if he could take it. He felt a lump grow in his throat as he reached the creek bed at the bottom of a ditch and leapt over it, stumbling a bit as he lost his footing and held onto a tree branch to hold himself. He pushed a few bushes aside, glancing around and almost missing it. 

It was covered in dirt. Of course it was. Dirt, and leaves. It was silent. Karkat gulped down the lump, taking his sickle out of his sylladex, and staring at the rusted chains. They couldn’t be that strong anymore. He was surprised they weren’t broken. Had he really given up? That was scarier than anything else that was going on. The rustling of branches in the air was drowned out by the intensity of Karkat’s thoughts and the inability to focus on anything but the scene before him. He grabbed one of the chains, hooking his sickle under it and pulling. It creaked and part of it crumbled as he pulled at it, breaking the chain easily. The rest fell to the forest floor. and he moved to slip the sickle under the other chain. It was as he was hooking it through the chain that he realized what he was doing, and stepped back. One. Two. Three steps. He wanted to throw up. He couldn’t do it.

A knock on the door nearly sent him jumping out of his skin and running for the hills. He stumbled backward and hit the nearest tree, his eyebrows knitting together into a tight scowl. Glaring at the door. He quite honestly didn’t believe it. He was half hoping this was some random fridge some pranksters from the troll kingdom had wrapped some rusty chains around and tossed into the woods, but he knew better than that. He had watched Dave and John toss the fridge into this very ditch. He had insisted that he be allowed to watch it. To watch the bastard suffer. That had been his reasoning, and he had been convincing himself that was why he was out here again, but after pulling that first chain off, he’d questioned himself and promptly backed away. He couldn’t let himself give in. Give up. He’d gone so long. He’d resisted the temptation. He hated this guy, so what the fuck was he trying to help him for? Was it some twisted belief that everyone could be saved? A long-buried care for his old best friend? Neither? Both? A completely different reason? He truly didn’t know, and he didn’t know if he wanted to know.

Another knock snapped him out of his thoughts, and his breathing hitched. This was real. This was happening. Gamzee was alive, and he was in there, and oh my god thinking his name made it all the more real, “Gamzee…” he whispered, almost silent. It was more of a breath than anything, lost in the wind, but he hadn’t heard that name leave his mouth in years now. He’d only ever addressed him as ‘that clown fucker’ or ‘the bastard in the fridge’ among other less than kind names. He gripped his sickle tighter before creeping over to the fridge to grab the one he’d dropped out of fright. At least he told himself he was only going to retrieve his sickle, but the compulsion got the best of him and he yanked the sickle up in one swift motion, watching the chain slide to the ground and the door of the fridge just… fall off. 

If our narrator was more on the descriptive side, he’d probably say it fell in slow motion, but a more realistic perception of the scene would have described it as the door clattering off and hitting Karkat’s shin as it fell, earning a shout and a loud “FUCK!” as he moved away, rubbing the spot the heavy door hit. The smell released from the box was pungent, and damn near unbearable. The Vantas actually gagged when he smelled it, and moved away quickly, watching a figure pull himself from the inside after a moment like a contortionist from the too tight box it’d been stuffed in for a fancy trick. But this was no fancy trick. There was no audience, except for maybe Karkat himself. What had he done, what the fuck had he done? He gripped his pant legs tightly, stepping further back.

As Gamzee stood up fully- or attempted to, several bones cracked in various places, and the light caught on his eyes, causing a menacing flash to appear in the back of his eye, reflecting off the retina. He looked scared. Like a deer in headlights. He couldn’t stand, and after a moment, sat his ass right back down on the top of the fridge. After what felt like ages, Gamzee finally said something. It was simple, and it wasn’t even a sentence really. Just a one word observation, “Karkat.”

“No fucking shit. Yeah, it’s me. Karkat,” the troll in question all but snarled out. He wasn’t happy to see the clown even if he’d been the one to free him. At least he hoped he wasn’t.

“Karkat,” he repeated, like a wriggler learning his first words, “Karkat,” again. Karkat wasn’t sure if that pang in his heart was fear, anger, or both. He wanted to throw up. His head was spinning. He was mad, and he hadn’t wanted to hear that grating drawl ever again in his life, but here he was.

“Yeah, what do you want?” Karkat asked, and Gamzee reached out an arm to tug on Karkat’s sleeve gently, not having anywhere near enough strength to do much more than that, “You smell like a fucking decaying corpse. Don’t touch me,” Karkat snapped, but Gamzee didn’t even seem phased. In fact, a small smile danced across his mouth and the smeared and cracked paint on his mouth. He seemed to be running his thumb over the fabric of Karkat’s sweater and reveling in such a small thing. A bird cooed in the trees above and Gamzee flinched, his eyes wide as he gripped the fabric a little bit tighter. He looked fucking pitiful like this, and Karkat hated it. He hated him. 

“Hi,” the clown smiled, his sharp and yellowed teeth showing slightly in the smile. A few were missing now. Unsurprising. It was a simple greeting, but it was something considering he’d literally been trapped in a box, festering for at least 3 years. You could definitely smell it on him.

“You need a fucking bath,” Karkat commented, not even returning his greeting. 

“Okie motherfuckin’ dokie, Karkat,” his grin widened, and he reached to grasp Karkat’s hand. It was gross and his skin was dry and greasy at the same time in different spots. Disgusting. He seemed to grip the smaller troll’s hand even tighter when it registered in his head that he was real, and he was actually there, “Thanks,” he added, and that thanks was enough to break the dam. A few tears dribbled down his face, and he brought his free hand up to wipe at his eyes furiously, “No, no don’t. Stop,” Gamzee frowned, but his arms weren’t strong enough to reach up and wipe his tears like he might have if they were younger, and all he could do was run his thumb over a spot on the back of Karkat’s hand and frown, trying to tug him into a hug again. It didn’t work. Karkat wasn’t letting him. He simply shook his head, and pulled his hand away, wiping it off on his pant legs.

“You’re fucking helpless. You can’t go anywhere, and I’m sure as shit not gonna help you. You don’t deserve that,” Karkat informed him angrily, “You ruined my fucking life! I spent 8 fucking sweeps tending to your ass like you were a fucking wriggler, and the thanks I get is you killing half the fucking meteor because Dave made you a little bit upset? You’re the worst fucking excuse for a troll I’ve ever seen in my life and I wish you died in that damn fridge!” he shouted, clenching his fists and digging his nails into the palms of his hands, and Gamzee simply watched with a tilted head, his greasy hair flopping to the side.

“I know,” he nodded, and smiled a bit, before laying down across the top of the fridge. He seemed absolutely knocked already, and it had only been a little bit, “Missed you,” he mumbled, his eyes fluttering shut as he pressed his cheek against the fridge.

“You’re a fucking psycho,” Karkat stated, but couldn’t find it in him to tear his eyes away from the pitiful sight before him. Gamzee’s breathing never evened out, but the stabilization of Gamzee’s usually erratic eye patterns were enough of a signal to Karkat that the clown was asleep. He hated himself for remembering such a trivial fact about his ex-moirail. He looked around the woods and the cold shadows looming from every corner. After a few moments of deliberation, he pulled his jacket off and set it over the lanky clown, tucking the hood under his chin before kneeling beside his head and gulping as he ran his hand down Gamzee’s sunken cheek, wiping away some of the flaking and cracked paint under his eye. He swallowed down a feeling of deep regret, and stood back up, staring at Gamzee a moment longer before turning and heading back up the hill, the way he came. He leapt across the creek, not stumbling this time, and stepped through the clearing, a cloud of anxiety covering everything around him in its shadow. He could have very well just released a serial killer into the woods by his home, and there would be nobody to blame but himself. It was always him after all. He’d got everyone into this mess, and he was just continuing to dig their grave deeper and deeper with every fucked up action he took. As he finally reached the sidewalk again, he glanced back into the woods.

When- If ever, he visited Gamzee next, he was pretty sure he could count on the clown not having moved much. He couldn’t move much yet anyway. 4 years of stagnancy doesn’t do well for the muscles. Karkat looked away from the woods, and began his walk back home. He didn’t know if this walk eased his fears or made them 10x worse. Probably both.

**Author's Note:**

> hope u liked it, dis is 4 my friend 😼


End file.
